


Fulton doesn't get it

by Silverwoulf



Category: Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: Bash Brothers, Bashslash, Dean is a Good Friend, Dean/Fulton if you squint, Eden Hall, Fulton has no clue, Fulton's dad A+ parenting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this because of rare pair hell, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Injuries, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Relucant Injury Reveal, Set after D3, Whump, no beta we die like idiots, whump prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverwoulf/pseuds/Silverwoulf
Summary: They may have won over Varsity but things aren't perfect for the Ducks. Especially Fulton struggles and things come to light that make it worse for him. Thankfully Dean has returned to stay and is there for the other Bash Brother. If Fulton only knew.
Relationships: Dean Portman/Fulton Reed
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	1. Sunglasses

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I read through every Bashslash fanfic on here and sadly there isn't much. As such, I saw myself forced to write some myself. It's been a while since I last wrote fanfiction and I've never written for Mighty Ducks. 
> 
> I love to write whump, angst, and Hurt/comfort so be warned.

Eden Hall was the best and worst thing that had ever happened to any of the Ducks. They got a chance beyond their wildest dreams in a place they had never seen themselves in, surrounded by others so very different from them. Well, all of them except for Banks, he fit right in. While especially Kenny got a lot of shit from the older teens and Connie and Julie had to fend off more than one creep, Fulton struggled with the expectations and rules. The return of Portman to the team had been a relieve but his presence didn’t make classes, recess and meals any easier. It was, in a way, like back before the Ducks came into his life.   
People ignored him or worse avoided him. Even the teachers didn’t know how to deal with him. Classes were more fun because the teachers were more engaged but while Averman tended to run his mouth and Dwayne and Louis couldn’t sit still he struggled to stay focused. His thoughts were all over the place, his mind on everything else but what they were discussing that day. He wasn’t as smart as Julie or Ken but he wasn’t stupid. It was just so hard to focus. And if that wasn’t bad enough Varsity hadn’t forgiven them for winning. They weren’t obvious about it, at least regarding the teachers, but the older team and a lot of the older students had it out for them. Changing the hockey logo might have been a step too far. Being shoved around was kind of new for him.

Things got especially bad once some kid from Stillwater blabbed about his home situation. He was treated either with pity, even from the Ducks, contempt or as if he had the plague. Shit really hit the fan when a group of preppy, rich kids drove by his dad’s house dropping trash in the yard and shouting shit. His father had been furious. So much so that he had called Eden Hall and threatened to have Fulton removed. In a move of desperation, he had spent the weekend at home, trying to talk things over and get his dad to reconsider. All it had done was make his father livid to the point that he had lifted his hand to him. It had been years since his dad had hit him and he hadn’t been prepared for it.   
He could pretend the bruises were from hockey what he couldn’t explain away was the black eye. His father had relented after Coach Orion had called, explaining how much the team needed him and what Eden Hall could do for Fulton’s future. Looking into the mirror he pushed against the bruised skin around his eye. It hurt a lot. The worst part though was that he couldn’t hide it. People would talk and the team would ask questions. Questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. What was there to tell? His father was a mean drunk who liked to take his anger out on him after his mum had run away without him. Fulton was sure that a few of the Ducks had at least an idea of what things were like for him, but nobody ever had any proof. He couldn’t even claim to have been in a fight. Everybody knew that he wasn’t prone to fighting if it was over hockey or his team. With a miserable sigh, he pushed the sunglasses on his nose and left for school. 

He slipped into the back of his first class and kept his head down. Everything worked till lunch. Fulton tried to avoid the team, but Dean managed to corner him in the cafeteria. At first, the other Bash Brother didn’t say a word about the sunglasses or how stiff Fulton held himself. Only once everyone had tucked into their meal and the other Ducks had split off into small groups to chat with each other, did Portman lean in. His shoulder gently brushed against Fulton’s; head cocked to the side as he tapped his finger on his can of coke.   
“You okay?”  
Fulton shrugged. What was he supposed to say?   
“I’m not gonna say anything to the others, but please do not hide shit from me. We are a team, you and I.”   
“I know man, I know. It’s just not that important.”  
“Fuck man!” Portman turned to him, knee brushing against his. Fulton had realised a while ago that Dean tended to touch him a lot when he was hurt. It had been strange at first, but Fulton had come to rely on these gentle touches. “What happened?”  
“Later okay?” whispered Fulton. He wouldn’t get out of telling Dean, but at least he could give himself some time.   
“Fine!”

It was once classes were done that Dean dragged him into their room and sat Fulton down. He stared at him for a while and Fulton started to feel uncomfortable. One of his tapes was playing quietly but it didn’t help to ease his worries. What would Dean say? It was kind of pathetic that he let his dad beat him up. He was a Bash Brother for crying out loud.   
“Hey,” Portman was kneeling in front of him, “Whatever happened, I’m here. Talk to me.”  
Fulton looked at the taller enforcer, struggling to keep the tears at bay. Things had just been a lot since coming to Eden Hall, but the last two, three weeks had been horrible. Portman being this patient and gentle with him, he wasn’t used to being treated that way. Handy came into view, hovering over the temple stems. A nod and Dean gently took them off, hissing when he saw the black eye.   
“Shit, Fulton.”   
He didn’t say more. Instead, he put the sunglasses down, sat up, and pulled Fulton into a hug. Fulton didn’t want to cry, but he was only human, and his dad wasn’t there to see him. Strong hands rubbed over his back until his sobs quieted down. Sniffling he pulled out of Dean’s hug. He didn’t want to, but it was all kinds of embarrassing.   
Dean cradled his face, thumbs brushing away his tears. “That looks bad, man.” He turned his head a bit taking a closer look. At this point, he had made his way between Fulton’s legs and they were eye to eye.   
“I would ask if I should beat the bastard up for you, but that wouldn’t help would it? Fuck man!”

Fulton has to laugh at the idea of it but shakes his head. His dad was a big guy with a lot of muscle. Dean wouldn’t stand a chance, at least not right now. A bit of growing and a few years and he probably would be able to take him on. Right now, though, he was dependent on his father. Maybe not for school, but for a roof over his head once school let out for the holidays.   
“Let’s keep that in mind for college.”  
Dean snorted. “Yeah.”  
They both looked at each other a while longer. Eventually, Dean got up and sat down next to Fulton. The silence between them was comfortable. Fulton dropped down on his back, feet still on the ground. Dean looked down onto him and Fulton wasn’t sure what to make off the look the other was throwing him. All he knew was that he was fine with Dean looking at him this way and he felt safe in his presence.


	2. Bottles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They return after the summer holidays and Fulton is in a bad place.

Everyone was happy that school was over. Next term they wouldn’t be freshmen anymore, not the smallest and youngest. A lot of the students that had given them shit over the win over Varsity and the renaming of the hockey team would be gone. The only sad thing was that Russ, Luis, Dwayne, Ken, Julie, and Dean would all fly back home; the ducks would be separated once more. With that in mind Coach Orion had kept them all together on their last day. They were all playing around on the ice and for lunch, they went out together. It was bittersweet fun for all of them even though they knew that they would be together coming September.   
Fulton and Dean spent the last few hours together. They had gotten even closer after Dean had found out about Fulton’s dad beating him up. Their shoulders, arms, legs, and even hands regularly brushed together, and nobody even questioned it. They were the Bash Brothers, the inseparable enforcers, a package deal. Now, they sat on a low wall, sides flush together. A pair of headphones shared between them. Like always it was comfortable, easy, and calming to both.   
“You gonna be okay?”  
“I’m gonna manage. I don’t think there will be a repeated performance. It’s been a while before that since he’d last hit me. He got just pissed about the Seniors throwing trash.”  
They had hugged for a long time before Dean had to get up to catch the bus that was supposed to take them to the airport. In a repeat of their last heart to heart, Dean grabbed Fulton’s face.  
“If that fucker tries again, call me. I’mma gonna come here myself if I have to.”  
Fulton laughed and placed his hands over the other’s.  
“Alright.”

The first week was alright. His dad wasn’t home often and when he was Fulton did his best to stay out of his way. He met up with the Minnesota Ducks a lot or shot puck in the back of the alley trying to narrow his hit or miss down further. Life was good, even if he missed Portman like hell. That was until one night his door flew open.  
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the hotshot hockey player, finally returned where he belongs. Still happy at that preppy school? Think you belong there?”  
Fulton sat up, fear gripping his heart. His dad was drunk, not drunk enough to slur his words and be unsteady on his feet, but he didn’t know how high the man’s tolerance had gotten while he had stayed in school. There was no way he would be able to get out of this one. He hadn’t heard his dad come home; he hadn’t seen him enough to gauge his anger levels. He scrambled up his bed as his dad stepped further into the room.  
“Dad, don’t.”  
“Oh, quit whining you little bastard. I thought playing hockey made you tough. Should have stayed on the Football team as I told you.”

Things didn’t change for him after that. His father stayed angry at him and used the slightest thing to lay it on to him; his favourite Football team lost? He threw a bottle at Fulton. The barkeeper in his bar closed early: He shoved Fulton over in the kitchen and kicked him. A neighbour had mentioned the badly kept lawn and he had knocked Fulton out cold only to throw him out till he cleared the lawn up.   
It was the fourth week of summer holidays and Fulton had stopped going out to meet with the team or shoot pucks. He didn’t dare be seen like this, bruised and beaten, pale, and getting thinner and thinner by the day. His father didn’t bother buying food anymore and Fulton had no money on him to get himself fed. The last time it had been this bad, had been when his mother had left and that had been a long time ago. 

The return to Eden Hall was a blessing for Fulton. He would be away from his dad again and hopefully, Dean wouldn’t be too mad at him. It was the one thing he was afraid of. Dean being mad at him for not calling him, for keeping his situation quiet, for not keeping his promise. He hadn’t slept because of it for the last couple of nights. His stomach was in knots which wasn’t helped by how starved he was. Returning to hockey would be hell.   
To avoid the team, he left early and skated over on his own. He wanted the reveal for as long as possible. There had been no questions over the black eye but from Portman. This time around he wouldn’t be able to avoid them. He had lost weight and his body was littered with bruises. Worst of all, his dad had taken a broken bottle to him. The scratch still wasn’t healed, and every movement pulled at the scab. Fulton knew that he should tell at least Coach about it, but he was afraid. Afraid of being singled out, of appearing weak, of being pitied, of the consequences. 

“Fulton!” yelled Portman after he had thrown open the door.  
Fulton though had curled in on himself. The moment the door had banged into the wall he was back in his house, his room, and all he could see was his dad standing in the door. A hand settled on his shoulder and he flinched. Like always he tried to suppress the reaction, but instinct was instinct.   
“Fulton. Hey, it’s me, Dean.”  
Gentle hands pulled his face up, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. Dean made sure to signal his movements as he crawled into bed with Fulton. He curled his arms around him and pulled him into his chest. They stayed like this for a long time. Dean brushing his hands through Fulton’s hair and over his back, making sure to hold him close but not to suffocate him. The whole time Fulton stayed curled up, breathe short and flat. 

Eventually, Dean rolled Fulton onto his back and looked down at him. He could see the dark and swollen circles under glassy blue eyes, the fallen in cheeks, and chapped lips.   
“Hey,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”  
“’s not your fault.”  
Dean shook his head and settled on his elbow so he could keep his eyes on Fulton. His right hand slowly carded through the other’s black hair.   
“Why didn’t you call?”  
“Dunno. Felt pathetic and weak. Didn’t want anyone to see me like that.” Dean had to strain to hear Fulton, but he got it.  
“You are everything but. Fuck man, how is anyone supposed to fight back against their parent? There is nothing pathetic or weak about it.”  
“I’m a Bash Brother. I should be able to fight back.”  
“No! You shouldn’t have to fight at all! It’s unfair. Nobody should go through what you are going through. It’s… it’s. Fuck man!” Dean dropped his head onto Fulton’s chest. He knew that he should try to keep it together for Fulton’s sake. His Bash Brother had been through enough, he needed someone to be strong for him. But seeing his best friend, his brother in arms, this hurt and afraid, it was hurting him. 

Fulton, upon seeing how much Dean was struggling, pulled him into his chest. His weight was comforting, and Dean had held him a lot in comfort. It felt good to be there for him even if he was the reason Dean was this upset. He got worried when he felt Dean’s shoulders shaking and something wet seeping through his shirt on his chest.   
“I’m sorry.”  
Dean shook his head again. “Not your fault.” Sniffling he pushed himself onto his elbows. They both looked at each other, glad to be back together.   
“I’ve missed you.”  
Fulton laughed slightly, hands settled on Dean’s back, fingers twisted in his shirt. “Missed you too, man.” He tugged on the other to pull him onto his chest again. 

“We’ve got to get some meat back onto you. Sorry, bro, but you’re not really comfortable like this.”  
Fulton knew it was meant as a jest, but it still hurt. He was uncomfortable with how much weight he had lost. It made his bruises stand out so much more and he didn’t look like himself anymore.   
“Shit, sorry man.”  
“Kind of true though. Can’t be a Bash Brother like this.”  
“You’ll be a Bash Brother no matter what. My other half, my best friend, the Ying to my Yang. We take care of each other and if that means that I have to make sure you get enough from now on I’ll happily take on that job.”  
Bruised up arms pulled Dean in closer and Fulton buried his nose into curly hair. He didn’t know what he would have done at this point if Dean hadn’t come to Eden Hall. Chances were good he wouldn’t have made it through the summer. Returning to the Ducks and Dean had been all that had kept him going during the worst of it. He was glad that Dean wasn’t angry at him, glad that he had the other Bash Brother to rely on. 

“You’re getting heavy.”  
Dean snorted and shoved his nose into the chest underneath him. “You have to let go first.”  
“Don’t wanna.” They both laughed at their antics. Happy, comfortable, and feeling content. Still, both moved around a bit to get more comfortable. That was until Dean brushed against Fulton’s side and drew a hiss from the slightly smaller Bash Brother.   
“Fuck, did I hurt you?” Dean scrambled up, gently prying the shirt up. The sigh that greeted him stopped him short. There was a long, ragged cut on Fulton’s left side. It started under his waistband and curved up to his belly and over the first three ribs. Underneath the scab, the wound was already shiny with scar tissue, but it was still an angry red. He brushed his fingers against the skin close to the wound. Dean didn’t know what to say. This was worse than a black eye or a few bruises. There were a lot of them all over Fulton’s skin. Some had already faded to yellow and others were still an angry purple. He sat back, shocked and worried for his friend.   
Warm hands grabbed his, pulling them away from the battered body. “It’s alright.”  
“It really isn’t.” Dean knew that he sounded weak and miserable right now but that was what he felt. There was nothing he could do about Fulton’s dad, nothing to make the bruises and the wound go away, nothing really to ease his friend's worries. “I… you… Fulton, man. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” Hot tears rolled down his face again and he tried to brush them away.   
“Not your fault and I’m here now. It’ll be a while before the next holidays.”  
“As if I’m going to let you go back there!”   
“I do not really have a choice, do I?” Fulton had raised himself on his elbows. He missed Dean’s warm body against his even if the other was heavy and it made him aware of his body. 

“How did this even happen?”  
“Dad’s still mad about the ‘White trash’ prank the seniors pulled. He left me alone for the first few days. Drank more, got home later and later.” Fulton shrugged. “Turned on me, beat me up whenever he got his hands on me. I tried to stay away from him but didn’t want to go out either. I hid mostly in my room or the yard. That,” he pointed at the scabbed over wound, “happened a week ago. We got in a fight over me going back to Eden Hall. He thinks I won’t make it here and that hockey is a shit sport. I think this stupid, preppy school is a good chance and Ice Hockey is the best. He broke a bottle and attacked me with it. Dunno really what happened after that. At least he stayed away from me most of the time after that.”  
Dean sat there between Fulton’s legs at a complete loss. His Bash Brother was too casual about the whole thing. He was pretty sure that it hadn’t been the first time his dad had made his life living hell. Even if he didn’t know how he would get Fulton out of there eventually. He eased himself on his side next to Fulton and started to pet the other’s hair again. The black hair was silky, and Dean wondered if he could get Fulton to grow it out even more. 

A knock startled them both out of their nap. They both looked at each other unsure of what to do. Neither wanted to move out of Fulton’s bed but they knew that it would raise some questions. They might get away with a lot but snuggling in bed together both of their eyes red-rimmed? Not a chance. With a groan, Dean stood up and opened the door.


	3. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Portman forces Fulton to tell Coach Orion and some past happenings are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure if I actually should up the rating because, hell, I am putting Fulton truly through the wringer.

Portman had forced Fulton to tell Coach Orion what was going on with him before the first practice. To make sure that Fulton went through with it and felt at least somewhat comfortable he went with him. They both sat on the two chairs in front of Orion’s desk.  
“So, what was so important Portman?” asked the coach. Both teens could see that he instantly had seen that the man had recognised that something was wrong with Fulton.  
“I… it’s…” Fulton looked down at his lap where he was pulling at the string from the band-aid around one of his fingers. How was he supposed to tell an adult what his dad was doing to him and how was he supposed to tell Orion that he wouldn’t be able to play for a while? He would have done it, but Portman had talked him out of it. Fulton startled when a hand grabbed his. He looked up at Portman, who squeezed his fingers. Taking a deep breath, Fulton started again.  
“Coach, I won’t be able to play for a while. I’ve… that is… my dad… The holidays weren’t great, and I am in bad shape and…”  
“Fulton.” Both teens looked up at their coach. “I understand that this is hard if you need time to put it into words, take all the time you need. But I need a good explanation for why I am benching you for now. One that I can give the board. Does anyone know what happened?”  
Portman squeezed his hand again. “I do.”  
“Nobody else?”  
Fulton shook his head. “I didn’t go out after a while. Haven’t seen anyone on the team yet.”  
“Alright. Listen, I need you to go to the school nurse to have her check you over. I’ll tell her not to inform the authorities just yet, but we will at some point. This,” he pointed at Fulton in general, “won’t happen again. Not on my watch. We will tell everyone that you got ill during the summer. It will explain why you won’t be playing and why you lost so much weight. Yes, I can see that even with the baggy shirt you are wearing.”

Orion shuffled a few papers around and then got up. Portman and Fulton followed him. He sat them down in front of the nurse’s office again. “Wait here. I will clear things up and after the check-up, you will do as told, Fulton. I want you back on the ice.”  
With a tired sigh, Fulton sank further into his chair, head dropping back. He was tired. After getting up that early to avoid his father and breaking down in front of Portman, the idea of talking about it to adults was stressful. He’d been tired all summer but never this early and never this bone-deep.  
“Hey,” he looked up at Portman, “it’s gonna be okay. You won’t even have to tell anyone about it.”  
“Not yet.”  
“And I’m gonna be right there with you when you are ready. For now, let’s make sure things are, well not okay, but you know.”  
Fulton just nodded and closed his eyes again. Portman hadn’t let go of his hand the whole time and he wouldn’t say a word about it any time soon. It felt grounding and there was this feeling of security he had had when they had lain in his bed curled up together. Things were bad and they would be for a while, but with his Bash Brother at his side, it was at least bearable. 

“The nurse is ready for you, Fulton.” They both made to get up. “Just Fulton.”  
Said teen stopped short. Coach couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t be able to go through with this if he didn’t know that there was someone close by that had his back. Rationally he knew that the nurse wouldn’t do anything to him, but he was afraid, so afraid, and his dad had proven that you couldn’t trust adults that should have your best interest in mind. He shook his head, pressing closer into Portman’s side, his grip becoming painful.  
“Let them both in if he feels more comfortable this way.” It was the nurse and she waved them both inside.  
“Now, you sit down on the couch over there and you on that chair. Coach Orion explained that you do not feel comfortable speaking about what happened to you.” Fulton nodded. “I do need you to tell me, but I promise you, nothing you say will leave this room until you are ready. If it makes it easier for you, tell your friend and pretend I am not here, while I take a look at you. Would you take your shirt off?”  
He took a shuddering breath, let go of Portman’s hand, and pulled his shirt up, ignoring the way the movement pulled at the scab and how much his shoulder ached. Once the shirt was off, he grabbed the other’s hand again. Fulton couldn’t bear to look at anyone, least of all Portman. He knew he behaved like a little kid right now, but for the life of him, he didn’t have the energy to pretend anymore. 

“So, my dad punched me last term after those seniors pulled that prank. I thought after I was allowed back here that things were fine. The first week was fine, but then he burst into my room and well, he beat me up. Didn’t buy a lot of food and I didn’t get any money to buy anything for myself. He’s been drinking most of the time anyway, so I don’t even know if there’s any money around anymore.”  
Fulton looked at Portman the whole time, but he flinched the moment the nurse touched him. She drew back instantly.  
“I have to take a look at a few of these bruises. Whenever something hurts or feels uncomfortable, please tell me.” He nodded and returned to summarising his summer.  
“A week ago, he broke a bottle on the counter and attacked me with it. He’s left me mostly alone after that. Probably because school started up again and he didn’t want anyone asking questions and stuff.” He shrugged and Portman snorted, making it clear what he thought of that. 

It took a while during which the nurse asked a few more questions and Fulton avoided looking at her. She had put something on the scab and a few of the bigger bruises and had dressed the wound on his side up. After a rundown of a new diet and a bottle of painkillers he was sent on his way. Portman had been silent the whole time, but Fulton knew that his Bash Brother had listened to everything the nurse had said and would make sure he did as told.  
They both ambled back to their room, hands dropping whenever they walked past someone. Fulton hated it. Hated how he felt like they were doing something forbidden. He knew that two boys holding hands wasn’t a sigh many welcomed, but he needed to comfort right now. The third time it happened Portman had grumbled something and had kept close enough that their hands brushed from time to time.  
Back in their room, Fulton dropped onto his bed, face first, ignoring the stinging all over his body. He was beat. Sleep sounded like a very good idea. A weight settled on the mattress next to him and a hand rubbed circles on his back.  
“Tired?”  
“Mhm.”  
“Nurse said you should eat something before taking your meds. I still have something in my backpack.”  
“Not really hungry.”  
“I get it, but you have to eat. Then the painkillers and after that, you can sleep all you want.”  
“Fine.”

After half an apple and a few crackers, Fulton washed the tablet down with some water and curled up in bed again. He should unpack, and maybe ask Portman about his summer, but there was no energy in him anymore. He was barely awake enough to realise that the other boy had lain down next to him. A heavy arm settled over his side and he let himself be drawn in. With a deep sigh, he fell fully asleep.  
When he next woke it was dark outside. His head lay nestled on Portman’s shoulder, arm over his stomach, and Portman’s arm curled around his shoulder. It was warm but not enough that he wanted to get up. He never wanted to get up if he was honest.  
“You okay?”  
“Yeah. Painkillers helped. You?”  
“Comfy. Not sure if I am ever gonna sleep in my bed ever again.” They both chuckled at that until they both realised how much they wanted that.  
“Fine by me.”  
“Hey, Fulton. How did you get that scar on your cheek?”

Oh. He hadn’t expected that one. No one had ever asked him about it. Most probably thought that he got it as a kid playing around or something like that and he went with that story. Sadly, it was far from true. He still remembered the day as if it was yesterday.  
“It happened the day after my mum left. Dad had thought that she was just running late on a few errands. He was already pissed about her not cooking lunch. I somehow knew that she wouldn’t come back.  
She had been sad for a long time and I am pretty sure that dad beat her, too. When dinner came around and she didn’t show dad was already drunk. I came down and asked him about dinner. He threw a fit and slapped me around. I hit the table corner with my face and passed out. When I came to, I had a bandage over it and my dad had made breakfast. Thought things were fine. I always think that, don’t I? Things spiralled from there.”  
“And nobody questioned anything?” Portman sounded sad and he pulled Fulton closer into his body.  
“People thought I fell or something while playing. Dad told me I should just go with it. Nobody has ever really asked about it.”  
Portman threw his other arm around him, too, face pressed into his hair. Fulton reciprocated the full-body hug by pulling the other into him. It felt good talking about these things with someone he trusted. He felt his eyelids dropping eventually and he happily let sleep pull him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more prompts and this one might be done. I'm not sure.   
> But please, if you want, talk to me about Mighty Ducks and the Bash Brothers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first game of the season and Portman is butting head. Fulton is worried. Rightfully so.

Even after two weeks, Coach Orion wouldn’t let Fulton on the ice. The team had noticed, the bruises, how stiff he held himself, how he flinched, and how skinny he had gotten. Averman had dropped off a comment on his weight, and the group had laughed. That was until they realised how uncomfortable Fulton was. The laughter had immediately stopped, and they all had turned to him. Thankfully Portman had been there to function as a buffer between him and the group. He had answered as much as they both were willing to share and made it clear that there would be no further discussion on the subject.   
He spent most of the time during practice on the bench watching the team. It was frustrating to just sit there, but Coach had made it clear that if he didn’t do as told he would be on the bench the whole season. 

“Hey,” he startled, “You okay?”  
Fulton shrugged at Portman. “I wanna play.”  
Portman reached over and wrestled their hands together. “You can’t. The nurse said to wait for a while longer.”  
“I know, I know. But I’m gonna miss the first game, at least. I wanna skate, and shoot puck, and… be part of the Bash Brothers.”  
“Hey, listen to me. I told you, you’ll always be a Bash Brother. We both are, always.” Portman shook their hands, trying to rattle some sense in his friend. “And man, I’m gonna play twice as hard till you’re back on the ice, and then we are gonna give them hell.”  
They both laughed a bit until Portman was called back to training.

It had become a routine of sorts, with Fulton at the sidelines. He had taken to bringing his homework with him and after a few weeks, he was on top of his schoolwork. It was still hard for him to stay focused in class, but there was nothing else to do for him. Every once in awhile, he had a book with him and read while the team was training.   
“What’cha reading now?”  
“Shouldn’t you be training your shots?”  
Portman laughed. “I can take a moment to talk to my favourite duck.”  
“We are roommates, you are obligated to say that. And I’m reading the book for lit.”  
“Damn, you must be really bored.”  
“It’s actually not so bad, but yeah, I am.”  
“Just, don’t bring it with you tomorrow.”  
He closed the book and hit Portman on the nose with it. “Go, train, and you’ll have my full attention tomorrow.”  
“Just tomorrow?”

“PORTMAN!”  
The teen nearly jumped out of his pads and Fulton couldn’t help but snigger at his friend’s fright. He watched Portman’s retreating back, shaking his head when their coach had him running additional laps as punishment. Well, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t use the conditioning, not that he would ever say that out loud. The other Bash Brother was rather proud of his physique, and he had every right to be, but he was rather lazy. At times it was unfair. With a sigh, he returned to his book.

The first game of the Eden Hall Ducks was a grand affair. Like the year before a lot of students, parents, alumni, and teachers were present and ready to cheer them on. The mood in the locker room was exuberant as the team worked themselves into a frenzy. When it was time to head out on the ice Fulton wished them a good game and demanded that they win for him. Laughing they all agreed.   
“You’re going to keep an eye on them, aren’t you?”  
“Promise.”  
“Take care of yourself, too.”  
“It’s gonna be fine. No one can hurt this guy.” Portman hit his chest grin wide. 

“PORTMAN! Is this gonna be a thing with you two?”  
Both sputtered and turned red.   
“Move it. Fulton is going to be on the bench the whole time.”  
“’s not where he’s supposed to be.” Portman’s mumble is meant to be heard but Orion doesn’t say anything about the insolence. Instead, he rolls his eyes and drags the taller teen out of the locker room.   
It’s not like Portman is wrong. They all know that Fulton belongs on the ice, but at the same time, they are well aware that he is in no shape to play. The announcement had caused some protest from everyone. Charlie had even tried to talk to Orion about it. Fulton had given up on that endeavour. If the nurse thought that he wasn’t ready yet there was no chance that he would be allowed to play. 

The second he took his seat on the bench, no pads, no helmet, no stick, Josh had announced his not playing. A lot of people turned to get a glimpse at the benched Bash Brother and Fulton did his best to hide behind his teammates. He didn’t want this kind of attention. On the ice, clearing the field for the others or shooting the puck, sure, but like this? Thankfully chances were high that he could play the next game, and hopefully, people would have forgotten this little situation at that point. A man could hope.   
Things on the ice looked fairly clean cut the first period and the Ducks lead three to none. The game went south when the opposing team send out their enforcer. He was huge and mean, and had no trouble flipping and shoving them over. There were a few hits that might have called for a penalty, but somehow the guy always managed to make it look like it wasn’t a hard hit. After the other team had pulled even Orion leaned over Fulton’s shoulder.  
“Portman, you’re up. Keep that guy busy but please take care. He will be gunning for you.”  
Portman just grinned, nodded, and jumped into the fray. Fulton couldn’t help but worry. Both of them should be out there to deal with someone like that.  
“He is going to be okay. Portman knows what he is doing.”

Both Enforcers repeatedly came into contact with each other and butted heads. It was more than once that either of them hit the ice, but both were determined to be the last man standing. At this point, most of the attention was on the Duck’s number 21 and the opposing number 45. The Ducks were in the lead by one point, but neither team seemed to care. Things got especially heated after the 45 had knocked Conny over into Portman. They had gone down and number 45 felt the need to drop a comment.   
“Shouldn’t let a little girl play a man’s game. Hey honey, if you are tired of these weaklings, how about I show you a good time.”  
Portman had helped Conny up and instantly went after the other. “Hey, fuckface!” Both enforcers stood toe to toe, “You wanna have a go? Hu?” It was the referee getting between them that broke up what would have become a brawl. 

The game went on and it didn’t go any better in the third period. Both enforcers gave it their best and everyone else on the teams seemed to get more and more aggressive. Goldberg and Charlie had gotten two-minute penalties and they had to carry Averman of the ice. It didn’t look any better for the other team. With three penalties and one of their players limping off the ice.   
Coach Orion wasn’t happy with how things were going, not because of the small lead, but the messy gameplay. He was pacing and shouting, switching players every other second. And while all of this was happening Fulton couldn’t help but yell, shout, and jiggle his leg. The tension was high, and everyone knew that it could very well end with someone ending up in the hospital. What everyone was wondering was if it would be either number 21 or 45. 

At the moment the Ducks had the puck and Adam was leading the attack. Charlie was directly beside him and Portman behind them. Two of the opposing players are moving in on them. Fulton can see the moment Portman and the 45 lock eyes, and both go for each other ignoring what is going on around them. The crash when they slammed into each other echoed through the arena and everyone was on their feet in seconds. Both men seemed to fall in slow motion, at least to Fulton. He could see Portman twisting around to catch his fall, but number 45 was going down without a twitch. There was a snap the moment Portman hit the ice and a heavy thump for 45. Neither enforcer moved.   
Fulton scrambled towards the board, trying to get over it, but coach Orion had his fingers in his fight strap in an instant. “Stay put.”  
He turned around to throw a hurt look over his shoulder. “You have no skates on and even if, we can’t risk you getting into a fight. Wait here.” The physicians were already on their way, while a few of the team’s players were circling around the downed enforcers. It seemed like hours to Fulton when Portman moved for the first time. He hit the ice with his fist and shook his head. Number 45 still didn’t move, and they were bringing the stretcher on the ice for him. Fulton kept his eyes on Portman though. He was on his knees, still talking to the physician. When he got to his feet again and slowly skated around Fulton sat down in relieve. His hands were shaking, and he was sure that wouldn’t be able to draw a full breath until he knew that Portman was alright.   
The team let him get to Portman first and he grabbed the other boy’s face, looking into his eyes. “I’m fine. Had a bit of trouble breathing after I hit the ice, but I am fine now. Promise.”  
“Let him get a second to himself, Fulton.”  
“Yeah man, we want to make sure he’s fine too.”  
The game resumed, but the tension was still high. Number 45 was out of the way, but his team was out for blood, and when things got too rough Orion sent Portman out again. 

In the end, they won, a clear four-point lead, and spirits were high. They had beaten a tough team and Portman had knocked their enforcer out cold without injuring himself. The only ones not happy were Orion and Fulton. The former because of the aggressive and sloppy gameplay and the latter because he had to see his best friend take a rough fall.   
Nonetheless, Orion’s lecture wasn’t too long as he too was glad that nothing major had happened to any of them. A contused shoulder for Averman that had seemed worse than it was on the ice and maybe, at worst, a mild concussion for Portman. Fulton kept his eyes on his best friend. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something felt wrong. The team got out of their pads and skates.  
“Fuck!”  
All eyes turned to Portman who had just taken off his skate. He had both hands around his left calf. There were tears in his eyes as he stretched his foot out and hissed. They instantly scrambled to get the physician and Orion and to get to Portman.   
“Get off, it’s fine,” he snarled.   
Everyone took their hands of Portman as if burned. They had seen him angry and snarling at rivalling players, but never at them.   
“Let me see.” Fulton didn’t even wait for an answer. Instead, he pulled the other’s hands away and gently rolled the sock down. He hissed at what he saw. The ankle was swollen and red. “This looks bad. Portman, hey.” Fulton lifted one hand to Portman’s face, forcing him to look at him. “Why didn’t you say anything? You shouldn’t have gone out on the ice with your ankle like that.”  
Portman just shook his head, head thudding against the wall behind him. The physician pushed Fulton out of the way and looked at the ankle. Orion herded the team out, ignoring their loud protests. It was one thing to see a team member helped or even carried off the ice while the game was still going, they had to focus on that, but off the ice, after the game? They worried, wanted to be there for their injured team member. 

As it turned out Portman had twisted his ankle while turning himself around to catch his fall. He had been handed crutches and some strong painkillers. Coach Orion dropped him off at their shared room and watched on as Fulton helped the enforcer hobble to his bed.   
“Keep the leg elevated and keep off it for at least three days. I might have to bench you for the next game.”  
“No! It’s fine, really.”  
“The fuck it is! If Coach says you stay off that foot, you do so. The team can manage without you for one game. And chances are good that I’ll be back on the ice.” Fulton turned to their coach. “I will make sure that he doesn’t overdo it.”  
He nodded at them. “You do that, Fulton. And you,” he pointed a finger at Portman, “pull something like that again and I will bench you for the rest of the season. Understood?”  
Portman nodded dazedly. He hadn’t expected something like that from their coach. A reprimand sure, but not the threat of being benched for the whole season. 

Fulton shoved his pillow and blanket underneath Portman’s leg, making sure that it lay soft and secure. He fussed around, dropped a bottle of water onto the other’s side table, made sure the blanket wasn’t stuck and packed both their classwork into his bag.   
“Hey.” He ignored Portman, and instead pulled out his book.   
“Look at me please.”  
“Why? You gonna lie to me again?”  
There was the sound of fabric on his right and Fulton looked up. Portman was trying to shift on his side. He was up in a heartbeat and pushed the other back down again.  
“Fine, say what you want, if that keeps you from moving.”  
Instead of talking, Portman grabbed his hand that had been on his shoulder. He curled his fingers around and held on.  
“I’m sorry. I… I was afraid of what would happen to the team if I weren’t there to keep the Creston’s busy. Also… I…” he started to go red, “might have wanted to impress you.”  
“What? Why? I know you are great on the ice.”

Portman sighed. “Yeah, but you are always there with me. I wanted to prove that I can protect the others even when you are not there. It’s been hard, man. We would have felled that brute in seconds, but still. I just wanted to be good for both of us.”  
Now it was Fulton’s time to sigh. “You are an idiot, you know. Next time, do it without endangering yourself. That will impress me.”   
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah. Now, anything I can get you?”  
“No. Wait. Could you… no, forget it.”  
“What is it?”  
Portman opened his arms, holding them in expectation. Fulton laughed and curled up against the other Bash Brother. Things definitely weren’t great right now, but they had each other.


End file.
